Boobies!

So...this whole parenthood thing is one awkward fascinating bit of learning after another, but Isaiah's most recent doctor's appointment takes the cake.

In preparation for his one month visit with the pediatrician, Jo-Elle asked me for a list of questions for the doc. Among the things I wanted to know about was the seemingly odd shape of his rib cage. I had noticed it had changed, flaring slightly. The answer was not what I expected...

At one month of age, babies are awash in hormones that are being offloaded from their mother through breast milk. And the most abundant hormone, not surprisingly, is estrogen. But there is so much estrogen flowing that even little boys are feminized. So feminized that their bone structure temporarily changes...

And they develop breasts...

And they lactate...

Yup. Baby boys eating only mother's milk have so much estrogen in their diet that they themselves also produce milk. To prove the point, the doctor squeezed one of Isaiah's little boobies and got a drop of white! Its normal. And it passes quickly. In fact, the photo above is a couple weeks old (and not that cute, but it shows his bumps---which are now less prominent).

The human body is fascinating.

This all makes the frightening research around endocrine disruptors and chemicals like pthalates, BPA, and atrazine all the more scary---if boys are already squirting milk and this stuff puts them further over the gender-bending edge...yikes...

And it brings the issue of depuration (chemical offloading through lactation) in nonhumans, like dolphins, even more clearly into focus.

The Cut Off

It's been a month already for Isaiah. A month of firsts. His first trip in a car. His first time outside. His first time meeting an array of folks. His first time to a restaurant. His first walk in the park. Its all firsts for a while...but in the grand scheme, they get less momentous. There haven't been a lot of big benchmarks yet.

Though there was a biggee eight days after his birth.

His bris.

I have to admit, I was more than a little unsure of this thing. I've never been to a bris, ever. So I wasn't sure how comfortable I would be forcing my newborn son to undergo ritual genital mutilation on my dining room table---no matter how socially acceptable it is in this case.

Oh, a step back for those who don't know---a bris, or Brit milah, is the short ceremony in which a Jewish boy is circumcised. Yeah. Minor penile surgery in our house; you can add that to the list of firsts. Hopefully its the only one.

Aside from the whole thing of watching my son's penis getting cut up, it was actually quite pleasant. We had a couple dozen friends and family at the house (that's a happy grandfather and great uncle in the picture). The men all seemed to make a B line for the bar. I myself had quite a few gin and tonics to prep myself... And, in lieu of anesthesia, Isaiah was given the corner of a towel which had been soaked in kosher wine to suck on. It did the trick. The service was short and thoughtful---a celebration actually, as it signified Isaiah (and me) fulfilling the Biblical covenant between G-d and the Jews. It did not feel celebratory while watching those first quick jabs with the scalpel---but the guy wielding the knife was not only good at the religious service, he was a pediatric surgeon who had done this a million times and it was (thankfully for all present) over quickly.

Why on Earth do it at home rather than the hospital? Well...good question. Most everyone I know did it at the hospital. Heck, mine was done at the hospital. But given the interesting set of culture and identity issues that Jo-Elle and I bring to the table, I thought it important to embrace the tradition and engage our friends and family. Raising the little guy Jewish in our neighborhood won't be the easiest thing, but this ensured we got started in the right way.

Plus, everyone likes a good party, right? Its never too early to instill that spirit in Isaiah...

Meet Isaiah

OK, OK, I know I haven't blogged in a while, but this time I have a very good excuse.

Isaiah Joseph Shai Mogerman. That's him above. Pretty cute, eh?

He's been keeping me pretty busy for almost a month now. It doesn't seem like he does all that much, but that is deceiving. In fact, he has excelled at everything he has tried so far. Granted, that's pretty much just peeing, pooping, crying, and eating---but he is pretty world class at those. But I am getting ahead of myself. You are probably wondering how a schmo like me came into possession of a gorgeous little booger like this one.

Well, it started about 10 months ago... But we will fast forward to Thursday, February 11. That evening, my family was in town to hit the big Lincoln Presidential Museum and Library fundraiser event at the Four Seasons. We never made it... My brother and Jo-Elle headed to the event together and I took a cab from work. Before I got to the hotel, frenzied calls started coming in from my brother and as the cab arrived, I could see him outside with eyes as big as saucers.

"mumble, mumble...water broke..."

Apparently as they pulled up to the hotel, Jo-Elle stepped out of the car and felt a gush. And, being 8.5 months pregnant, that gush could mean one thing... So as she dashed into the hotel to find me or my parents, she shouted back to Rob to "make sure they don't park my car..." which he did. And to his clear relief, my arrival meant that he was spared the speedy trip to the hospital.

I drove. Since Jo-Elle was grossed out by the bodily fluids coursing down her pantlegs...and being in labor and all...

I'll spare you the details of the labor and birthing process except to say that a typical birth takes 13 hours. This was much less, but it was still a mind-numbing amount of time sitting around and waiting for something to happen. When it did happen, I was surprisingly in the mix. Holding legs. Pushing and supporting. Getting an up close and personal view that I had neither bargained for nor particularly wanted. Still it was fascinating and I'd not change a thing.

Towards the end, this greasy head popped out and looked right at me. It was perhaps the weirdest moment of my life. This little head sticking out of my wife's most personal spot giving me the stink eye... Surreal. And then like that, he's out and being cleaned off.

He was skinny. Very long. Sadly, with my long, spindly feet that seemed way too big for his body. Jo-Elle and I liked how he looked and carried himself, so we decided to keep him...

Ironically, he was born at 3:39 a.m. on Friday, which was Lincoln's Birthday. Its the sort of weird little coincidence that makes you wonder about fate as he had come three weeks early, but perfect timing to allow his uncle and grandparents to be at the hospital later that morning. And given my home town and the family business...the Lincoln thing is just too weird. Oh, and there's the fact that he held off two days after Jo-Elle successfully defended her PhD thesis... Its the sort of wondrous cosmic coincidence that makes you wonder who is pulling the strings out there...

More on Isaiah and mom soon.